Thursday, June 9, 2005

**Brian's POV**

"Agree with me or not, Dude, but I think that the Dave Matthews Band is the greatest of our generation," The Ram said as we jogged on the treadmills during our morning workout.

I looked over at him with a scowl. "I don't know when the fuck your generation started..."

"Okay Grandpa, what kind of music do you like?" the prick asked.

"Zeppelin, Floyd, The Who, Hendrix. And of course The Cure, Duran Duran, INXS..."

He snorted. "Christ, are you sure you're gay?"

"Gay as blazes. Are you sure you're not deaf?" I fired back.

He laughed and said, "Don't get me wrong, those are good groups. But I thought you gay guys were supposed to like Madonna or Cher."

Speaking of ‘us gay guys,' Emmett walked into the room to join us. He was wearing a hot pink tank top and tight black bicycle shorts, which left little to the imagination. Wow, I must be horny if I'm checking out his package...

"Morning fellas," Emmett greeted.

"Since when are you up before the crack of eight?" I asked him, as this was the first morning that I had ever seen him awake before breakfast.

He climbed onto the stationary bike and began to pedal slowly. "I normally try to work out five days a week, but I've been lazy since I've been here. I don't want my ass to start jiggling, so I'd better get back into the routine."

With that statement, I tried to imagine how Justin's bubble butt would look au naturel... "So Emmett," I said, snapping myself out of my fantasy. "Who are some of your favorite singers?"

"Oh, you know. Madonna, Cher, Barbra, Whitney..."

The Ram and I looked at each other and chucked. "Touché," I said to Ram.

********************

After a boring morning session and lunch of a chicken Caesar salad (accompanied by Emmett reciting another monologue from the play), I knocked on Justin's office door at twelve sharp for our session.

"Come in," I heard him shout. I opened the door and found him sitting at his desk, typing something on his computer. I took my usual seat and kicked off my flip-flops, per usual. He turned off his computer monitor and joined me in the other chair with his trusty clipboard.

"So, how are you today?" he asked.

By that point I hadn't sex in three days, so I was horny as hell. I had woken up with another painful erection that morning, and not even thoughts of Melanie fucking me with a strap-on could make it go away. I had to jerk off before I could take a piss, but I was still walking around with a persistent stiffy. Plus, I'd been locked up in the building for the last three days, so I was feeling some cabin fever. Did I mention that I was horny as hell?

I shrugged. "Fine."

He didn't look convinced. "You didn't say a word during the morning session. You looked a bit distracted."

Well, there's the thing with the Carter account. I had called Cynthia after breakfast to see if she had heard from Emmett's agent. She had spoken to Carol that morning and said that Carol would make some phone calls today. Plus I was wondering what the hell Justin and Rat Face were up to yesterday. Although I was willing to bet my favorite Gucci loafers that Rat Face was straight, it was apparent that they at least had dinner plans. Then, I wondered why the fuck I cared. Whoever Justin wanted to spend his time with was none of my fucking business. In between thinking about those things, I played scenes of One Eyed Jacks in my head while Joe cried over his wife leaving him after following him to a motel one day and catching him fucking a hooker.  

I shrugged again. "Not really."

He still didn't look very convinced, but he moved on. "So, although it's still early in your treatment here, it seems like we have established what set off your addiction and what caused you to seek treatment for it. However, I'm not so sure that you are really invested in your recovery from your addiction."

I crossed my arms. "And why is that?"

"First off, you refuse to tell anyone in your personal life about you being here. Having a strong support system at home is vital to recovery, and they won't be able to help you if you won't even admit that you've sought treatment."

I smiled smugly. "Actually, I told my assistant Cynthia the truth about where I was yesterday evening."

He looked pleasantly surprised. "Really?"

"She had left me a message to call her, and she told me that there was an emergency at the office that required my assistance. I told her that I wasn't going to be back until the Twentieth and they'd have to handle it without me, but she told me tough shit, Spain would always be there. Then I broke down and told her I couldn't come home yet because I'm actually in rehab for sex addiction."

He flashed me one of his Sunshine Smiles. Christ... if I was a woman, I'd say he was adorable or beautiful. Since I am a fag, I'll say that he's fucking hot. "Wow, Brian. Although you only revealed the truth to her when you were under pressure, it's a big step forward."

I tried to downplay it. "I only told her because I knew that she'd take it to her grave if I'd asked her to."

"Still, I'm proud of you."

Shit, there he went saying that he was proud of me again. I could recall only a few times in my life when anyone had ever told me that I made them proud. My former bosses, Marty Ryder and Gardner Vance, had said they were proud of me after landing important clients, but it was a selfish pride, since they were financially benefitting from my accomplishments. Jack had only ever told me he was proud of me when I had given him money, and again that was a selfish pride. Hell, had anyone besides Justin ever unselfishly expressed pride in me? No one came to mind.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling. I may have even been getting teary-eyed, but I attributed it to that pesky springtime pollen he had mentioned the day before. As if I believed that...

"Will you now re-consider telling a friend about where you are?" he asked, his blue eyes glistening in the sunlight shining through the window.

I looked down and sighed. He had originally posed that question to me the day before, but I had flat-out refused out of the irritation I was feeling at the moment. But really, why had I gotten so irritated? All the boy had said was that I was ‘just another patient' and that I shouldn't ‘flatter' myself over any perceived attraction that I had thought he felt towards me. Which was bullshit. I knew that I wasn't the young buck I was in my teens and twenties, but I rarely had trouble finding someone willing to suck me off or bend over for me. Justin had told me that he hadn't fucked in six months, so he must have been ready to explode. If I found him in a club instead of meeting him here, most likely all I would have to say was "let's fuck" and he would drop his pants for me in a heartbeat.

"I'll think about it," I answered.

Another smile. "Good. That's better than ‘fuck no,'" he said, imitating me at the end.

We both laughed. "So, um... I realized after how badly our session ended yesterday that we work together best with a reward system," he said.

I thought for a bit. "Oh, you mean with the ‘quid pro quo' thing?"

"Yeah... although, can we keep the questions clean?"

I frowned. "Well, that's no fun."

He shrugged and said, "Take it or leave it."

"Alright," I said. "I remember you saying yesterday during the evening session that you had wanted to go to art school."

He looked a bit nervous. "Yeah?"

"Do you ever wish that you had gone to art school instead of becoming a counselor?"

He put his elbow on the armrest and rested his cheek on his hand. O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek... Damn you, Shakespeare.

After pondering my question for a moment he said, "Sometimes, yes. I always loved going to art museums and galleries when I was a kid. Hell, I still do, when I have the time. I took art classes and was in the art club all throughout high school, and I had many pieces displayed in the student art shows. I've donated a few pieces to the LGBT Center over the years, and it's always great to see them displayed on the walls. But I..." He sighed and shook his head.

"You what?" I asked.

He waved his hand as if to dismiss the thought. "It's my turn. Why are you so afraid to be perceived as a failure to your friends if you told them the truth about you being here?"

I couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open. "I'm not afraid of anything," I claimed, trying to keep cool. Yeah right Kinney, you're fucking terrified.

"I know you said before that because of the inadequacies you felt growing up with unsupportive parents that you hate for anyone to see you as a failure. But they way I see it, if your friends really cared about you, then they would be proud of the fact that you admitted that you're addiction has gotten out of your control and that you were man enough to seek help. If your friends ridicule you for being weak, then maybe those aren't the people you should be friends with."

Well Goddamn, the twink had a point. Who was the asshole that said that if a parent really loved their kid that the details of their life wouldn't matter? Oh yeah, that was me. I guessed that it shouldn't be any different with friends. Mikey, Ben, Theodore, Lindsay, and Deb were the closest thing to a real family that I had ever really had. I would probably be dead if it weren't for them. Hell, they may look down on me more for lying about going to Ibiza than for going to rehab.

"I guess you're right," I reluctantly admitted. "I need to man up and tell them the truth."

"Now, I'm not questioning your manhood," he said. "I said that you were man enough to seek help. That's one of the most important steps in recovery."

I remembered what I had read online. "Step One: Admit that you are powerless to your addiction and that your life has become unmanageable... or some shit like that."

"Yeah, that is Step One of the Twelve Steps program. Actually, I've always disliked the Twelve Steps, because it focuses too much on depending on a higher power to give you the strength to abstain from whatever you are addicted to. Those programs do help some people, but the failure and drop-out rate is very high. I believe the best way for someone to beat an addiction is to use their own inner strength, as well as working with qualified counselors in in-patient or out-patient programs to find a way to live their life without their drug of choice. I don't believe that seeking treatment is admitting that you're powerless or weak; it's admitting that you care about yourself enough to better your life*."

"Well, people have always told me that I'm a narcissist..."

He laughed and said, "I can tell that you don't spare any expense with yourself, with clothes and grooming. And we already established that you have a massive ego, but I don't believe that you're a narcissistic, in the medical sense. Because of your success in your career and your sex life, it's natural that you would be a bit supercilious."

"Supercilious?" I repeated.

"I think it's a nicer way of saying arrogant or pompous."

"And it makes you sound smart... and pompous," I teased.

"Hey, I scored 1500 on my SAT," he informed me superciliously.

"I scored like, 13-something."

"That's pretty good. Where did you go to college?" he asked.

"Penn State. Go Nittany Lions," I said, sarcastically raising my fist in the air. "Alright, it's my turn. What was with you and the janitor yesterday?" Not like I care... but I was trying to ‘keep it clean.'

All at once, his luminous countenance disappeared. I know fancy words, too; that means "sunny face." After the initial shock of my question wore off, he tried to act nonchalant... hey, there's another one. "Oh, that's Chris Hobbs. We went to high school together."

"I couldn't imagine the two of you being friends," I said.

He looked down at his clipboard. "We weren't. In fact, he bullied me after he found out that I was gay." Why doesn't that surprise me? "He just started working here this week, and he invited me to dinner as a peace offering."

"Did he take you to a titty bar?" The straight asshole...

"Close, a sports bar. Anyway, back to you. Are you afraid of commitment?"

There was that word again. "No. Why would I be?"

"You said before that you've only had one ‘real date,' but it turned out to be a one night stand. I'm assuming that means that you've never been in a committed relationship."

"No, but that doesn't mean that I'm afraid to commit to someone. I've just neverwanted to commit to someone."

He timidly asked, "What if you met someone you wanted to commit to?"

I licked my lips and looked at him like he was a piece of chocolate cake. "Why, Sunshine? Is that an invitation?"

His eyes bugged out as he sat up straighter in his chair. "No... I'm just wondering if you think you're even capable of committing to someone."

Uh huh... "Just because I've never been in a committed relationship, that doesn't mean I'm not capable of committing. That's just never been my goal. Besides, it's not like I had the best role models- Jack was a notorious womanizer and Joan always pretended like she didn't see it. He would flirt with random women in public, even in front of Joan, and women would call the house asking for him all the time. He probably had dozens of affairs throughout the years."

He nodded. "Yeah, my dad wasn't much better. Sometimes, he wouldn't come home from work until real late, and he always had some feeble excuse when Mom would ask him where he had been. He moved in with some woman right after she filed for divorce; Mom was devastated. But still, I've had three committed relationships before, in various durations."

"And how many random fucks have you had?" I asked.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "That's not a ‘clean' question."

I chuckled. "I beg your pardon... how many one-time sex partners have you had?"

"Rephrasing it doesn't clean it up... but I've never kept count."

"And when you had these one-time encounters, did you intend for it to be a one-time thing?"

He considered that for a bit. "Usually, yes. My last boyfriend didn't, though... but I guess that was my mistake, fucking a virgin. He showed up at the coffee shop I told him that I worked at the next day, asking if he could see me again. I told him no, but he didn't give up. He turned out to be a really sweet guy, so I gave him a chance. We dated for a few months, but he left me for another guy because he felt like I wasn't giving him enough attention."

"Was he right?"

"Yeah... I probably would have dumped me, too. It was during my senior year of college, so the timing couldn't have been worse. I was going to school full-time, working part-time at the coffee shop, and volunteering at the Center, so I had little time to spend with him. I was going to start my internship here the following semester, so knowing that would have given me even less free time, he dumped me after meeting someone at a Christmas party."

I stuck out my bottom lip. "Poor Sunshine."

"Shut up," he said, smiling. "I wasn't in love with him, so I got over it quickly."

For the hell of it, I asked, "Have you ever been in love before?"

He gave me a small smile. "Yeah."